


Chlorine

by dirksnipples



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alcohol Abuse, Alfred is a confused poor adult, Arthur speaks Polari, Depression, Discrimination, Drug Abuse, F/F, F/M, Forbidden Love, M/M, Murder, Name Calling, Sadness, Self Harm, Slavery, and is an alcoholic, and stains all of his nice puffy shirts with vomit, arthur is a rich hunk, attempt at old British slang, au takes place in the 1786, but I know that a lot of it won’t be I’m sorry, high trigger warning of shaming someone’s sexuality, historical au?, im going to fail, im sorry, in that order specifically as a forewarning, mental breakdowns, my goal is to make it as historically accurate as I can, old times, self hatred, ukxus, who is also depressed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-13
Updated: 2019-11-13
Packaged: 2021-01-29 18:36:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21414781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dirksnipples/pseuds/dirksnipples
Summary: Arthur Kirkland is a rich, lonely man. He gets drunk on a daily basis, abuses drugs, and hides who he really is away from the world.Alfred F. Jones is a poor young man, who is trying desperately to get his little brother the medical help he needs. With no parents, and nothing but his wits to help him, he sets off to London in search of a better opportunity.That opportunity just so happens to be the lonely Bachelor named Arthur.
Relationships: Alfred F. Jones & Matthew Williams, Alfred F. Jones/Arthur Kirkland, America & Canada (Hetalia), America/England (Hetalia)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 29





	Chlorine

**Author's Note:**

> I cannot, not will I guarantee that everything read in this fanfic will be 100% accurate to history. I will be doing research, but even then I could get something wrong, I’m sorry I’m advance. I also do not think I am highly educated enough to attempt to use British slang, or even Polari itself I recommend even researching it yourself, I doubt I even got it correct.  
This story will be dark, it’s not going to be happy. Being gay was not okay during this time, and you could get killed for it. I will not say that there is no chance for a happy ending, but they will have to work hard to accomplish it.  
This story takes place after America gained independence, and the ‘Treaty of Paris’ has been signed, and America has more freedom to do as they wish, but not completely.
> 
> I apologize for anyone I offend, that was not my intention, and anything in the future that may trigger you, I apologize as well. I wasn’t going to post this, but I wanted to at least try.

His face hurts. Oh, he’s going to have a rather nasty bruise on his cheek. 

Wouldn’t be the first time. 

The man huffs, hand holding his cheek. His other hand is currently braced against the cold snow on the ground. He may be wearing one of his nicer shirts, but it is still too thin. 

“Get the fuck out of here!” 

Oh, they really meant that. He wasn’t about to even argue, as much as he wanted to. Instead, he closed his eyes for a moment, waiting for the pain to dull. He doesn’t bother to brace himself against clothes, journals, and books that hit him. He lets it happen, before sighing, and getting up. He then proceeds to dust himself off, before reaching around to pick his things up. 

“If you _ever_ touch my woman again, I’ll have to dispose of you!” 

Oh come now, that is far from what he was doing. In fact, she touched _him._

He doesn’t bother to commute this, instead leaving it as is. It’s not like the male yelling would believe him anyhow. No, instead he holds his things close, pulling on his long, brown jacket, grateful that it was thrown at him. He then proceeds to make his way towards an inn that he knows is close by. He’s been in this area countless times, he supposed that he’s lucky that at least this happened in town. 

He sighs, before checking in, writing his name down in neat cursive writing. 

“Have a good night Arthur!” The young man behind the counter calls. Arthur waves a hand upwards, before making his way to his room. He can’t stop his mind from racing to the cute lad at the front. Those plump lips, and how they might feel around his dick. His ass is nice, round, and perky. He would love to see it jiggle with-

Ahem.

Once he finally arrives to his room, he half-hazardly tosses the few things that he has on the small desk beside the bed. One might think that at this time, he’d go right to bed, but that is the wrong answer. Instead, Arthur straightens himself up, rubbing wrinkles out of his clothes, and even attempting to fix his hair, before immediately going right back out. To where? Well, to a local pub. He easily makes his way back out into the cold, happy that everything is still open. The snow is light, and has just started touching the ground about half an hour ago, so he has plenty of time to get cronked. 

In no time, he reaches the nice sized building, enjoying the soft glow from inside. He smiles at the man behind the counter, already knowing fully well that he had plenty of bills to pay for as much as he wanted, he’s rather well off, after all. He takes off his jacket, sitting it onto his lap after he takes a seat. The man gives him a nod as a greeting. “Whiskey, please.” Arthur calls, and is happy to see the beverage. He quickly downs it, relishing in the burning sensation that it has to offer. When he sets the glass down, demanding for another, before tacking on to bring him a whole bottle just to save the man some time. He already gives the man the money for a bottle, before repocketing his pounds, and immediately pouring himself another glass. He’s right back to drinking it in one gulp, having no problems opening his throat for the burning liquid to slide down. 

He likes how relaxed he feels now, loose, and at ease with the situation. He feels warm and whole, happy to have that usually empty part of his heart temporarily patched until he becomes sober once more. 

He doesn’t stop the drinks, and knows that when he runs out, he’s going to get more. The tender isn’t worried, he knows that Athur will pay everything in full, and while one may try and cut one off, no one will bother him. He’s known to be rather generous when drunk off his rocker. No one complains, and he’s got more than enough to spend. 

He runs a gloved hand through his blond hair, already feeling red in the face, green eyes half lidded. He likes that he feels like he’s floating on clouds, and even lets out a small chuckle, tears ever so slightly brimming his eyes. He feels happy and depressed at the same time, and it’s an amazing feeling. He can’t tell who he is, or what will become of him, but that’s a story for future Arthur. Right now, he’s out of his mind quickly, knowing just how far he has to go just to get where he is right now. 

He’s near the brink of practically sobbing into his black glove, when a man sits down beside him. He shifts his tear stricken eyes upwards, noting even in his drunken haze that the male before him is really bizarre looking. His odd blond hair that seems to shine just a bit more than his. Glasses that are being held together by tape, a ragged white button up filled with patches, even his pants are full of patches. He’s pretty sure one of his shoe buckles is either crooked or was mended on from a different size altogether. Arthur moves his eyes back down to the table, looking at his hands for a moment, before deciding that he’s a little too hot, even in the middle of winter, and the fire place is causing a sweat to break out. He fumbles with his poofy sleeves, pushing them up to his elbows, before trying to take his gloves off. He can’t help the small noise of dissatisfaction at being unable to pull it off, that he finally just pulls at it with his teeth. 

He continues to the other one, sloppily folding them and shoving Them into his pocket. He takes a moment to down another glass, shakily lifting the bottle to pour another, only to be stopped by the man next to him. “Woah, careful there man.”

Arthur notices right away that he is American, and while not many years have passed since the Treaty of Paris, Americans have already butchered their English. Arthur scoffs at him, but letting the American pour his drink for him. “My, my, whata gentleman you are.” He slurs, already downing it, and motioning for another. He takes the time to look at the male up and down, and he doesn’t like how his body begins to feel hot while looking at him. He bites his bottom lip, eyes glancing to the American’s hands, before looking at his forehead. No sign of any wrinkles, or even ware of long time work. He knows the risks getting involved with younger men, but…

America likes to take risks right? Worst case scenario he doesn’t understand. Even safer, right?

He leans close to the tall blond, watching him widen his eyes a bit in surprise, blue eyes looking down at Arthur. “Good evening dolly ecaf~” he cooed quietly at the male. 

The look he gets is a confused one, and he can’t help but sigh. “Fantabulous, might she be a chicken, or utterly confused?” He continues, further confusing the man beside him. He clears his throat, holding a hand out. “Excuse me, think nothing of it. How do you do?” He finally says, happy to feel that soft hand graze against his. He can feel calluses beginning to form, yet other than that, nothing. Soft as fur. 

“Uh, fine.” He responds, before they pull back. 

“Arthur.” He says, downing his whiskey that was poured or him. 

“Alfred.” The man responds, causing Arthur to hum. 

“What brings you ta London?” Arthur asks, simply giving up on pouring his own drink at this point, and letting the young male do it. 

“Well,” Alfred begins, before setting the now empty bottle of whiskey down. “I’m looking for work. My brother is ill, and he needs medicine. I had to quit my last job, so I came looking for something that would pay me a little more.”

Arthur barks out a laugh, causing the young man beside him to furrowed his brows. “You came to Britain looking for work? How ironic!” He bellows, causing a few patrons to look his way. “Excuse me, chap, but ya do realize that we are in as much of a predicament as you, correct?” He asks, causing Alfred to fidget. 

“B-But-“ Arthur cuts him off by pressing his first two fingers to his lips. 

“Bloody hell, no need to get your knickers in a knot about it.” Arthur scoffs. “Now now lad, I’m about ta make yer night.” Arthur removed his fingers, looking around for a moment, before leaning in close, hand covering one side of his mouth._ “I’m on the pull.”_ He whispers close to Alfred, slapping his knee, and cackling. Alfred narrows his brows, cheeks tinting red, ready to shove Arthur away from him. “Joke! I am joking!” He wasn’t really joking, but this kid didn’t need to know that. “Oh, lighten up chap!” He claps Alfred on the back. “I’m looking fer a caretaker of sorts.” Arthur twirls his hand. “I need someone to make sure I don’t get knackered to death. I’m an aspiring author of sorts.” 

Alfred lets himself relax, but he shoots Arthur a dirty look as he does. “So a babysitter?” Alfred says, causing Arthur to roll his eyes. 

“If you would like to put it like that, then yes.” He said, before looking to the tender. “Sir, another round, please.” He smirks stupidly as he leans back, crossing his arms. “Sounds fascinating, does it now?” 

Alfred hummed for a moment, watching the male, fiddle with some of the lace attached to the end of his sleeves. He looked pretty well off, if some of his ware was anything to judge. “How much will I get?” He instead asks, watching the other deflate. 

“Come now..” Arthur says, sighing dramatically. “I’m pissed off my rocker, and yer asking that?” Even though he says this, he begins to dig through his wallet. He sloppily counts the money inside, and Alfred is immediately intranced

The guy was loaded. 

“How much?”

“250 pounds a month?” He tried, shrugging indifferently. That wasn’t much to him, but for someone like Alfred it could be even more. 

“What, really?” Alfred asked, leaning in. 

“Sure, why not. I could use the company, think of it as easy work.” Arthur says, before grabbing Alfred’s hands. “Of course, I refuse to have you step into my home looking in shambles. I will be spending a little to make you look nice.” He says, letting go, and leaning his head in his hand. “Bloody hell…” he mutters, before sloppily grabbing his drink and downing it in one go. Arthur hiccups for a moment, hand going over his mouth. “Oh, consider this your first task. Take me home. I’ll even give ya a fiver fer yer troubles.”

“Yes sir!” Is all Alfred says, helping the man up, and dragging him out of the joint.

**Author's Note:**

> While these may not be 100% accurately phrased, this is what I was able to see as the translations if no one is aware of what’s even being said.
> 
> _‘Good evening dolly ecaf’_ -Beautiful face
> 
> _ “Fantabulous, might she be a chicken, or utterly confused?”_ “Wonderful, is he a young boy, or just confused?
> 
> *supposedly when people spoke Polari, they would refer to the same gender whom they liked in a sexual matter or otherwise as the opposite gender, as to keep their sexuality and other matters regarding it hidden.
> 
> _“I’m on the pull.”_ Means looking for sex, if I am correct.
> 
> 250 pounds is equivalent to 321.43 dollars which basically means at that point, in this time period, Arthur is a fucking sugar daddy, and Alfred was hella rich. I just Amfkfkf
> 
> thank you for reading, and understanding my attempts at this story and possibly failing, but still enjoying it nonetheless.


End file.
